


Flames and Burns

by WritingsOfAHobbit



Series: Tauriel/Reader Stories [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3206135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingsOfAHobbit/pseuds/WritingsOfAHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The reader and Tauriel are secretly in love with each other (but neither know). The reader ends up separated from Tauriel when Smaug attacks Lake-Town and sustains bad burns. When the reader is found they are send back to Mirkwood, unsure if they will ever see Tauriel again. Fluffy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 3 part-er due to the colossal length of the original. Translations at the end

You had been a fool to follow Tauriel from Thranduil’s Halls. When you saw the anger in her eyes and her stiff composure, you should have let her be. But you’d ignored your brain and followed your heart and the red-headed elf out into the woods.

You’d caught up to her shortly, and Legolas and caught up with the two of you not long after. You and Tauriel had outnumbered Legolas, so he trailed along as you made your way to Lake Town.

It had been your intention to follow Legolas when he left the town on the water, but Tauriel had remained to heal the dwarf-archer. It had broken your heart to see the bond that had grown between Tauriel and the dwarf, but you were powerless to stop it. The dwarf was smitten, and Tauriel’s gentle touches and lingering gazes did nothing to defend her heart.

With a solemn heart that felt as though it was made of stone, you retreated to the balcony at the front of the bargeman’s house.

You knew that King Thranduil would never allow Tauriel back into his kingdom. If he did, she would never hold the position that she once had. If you followed Legolas now, you might stand a chance of redemption. Especially if you managed to explain everything to your parents. Yet the very thought of leaving Lake Town whilst Tauriel remained made you feel ill. You had sworn a silent and secret oath to keep her safe. Even if no one else knew of your promise, you were not about to break it.

Lake Town is quiet, save for the waves lapping gently against the wooden struts of the house. It’s so tranquil that one might forget about the pig that governed it and the dragon which neighboured so close.

The front door is slightly ajar, warm light spilling out onto the planks. You can hear the dwarves muttering quietly to one another and Bard’s children moving around.

The peace and quiet is broken by a rumbling crack and what sounds like a beast roaring into the night. The ground shakes, dust floating up from between the wooden slats.

Your head whips to face the direction of the Lonely Mountain.

There, through the cloud and the night, you can make out a small, glowing hole. From this hole, soaring up into the night, is Smaug.

Noise ceases from within the house and the few humans in the docks below yell in surprise before a deathly silence covers the town.

The silence only lasts for a few moments before a heavy bell starts to ring out through the night air.

Doors are thrown open and people start rushing to boats, carrying children, animals and their belongings.

“In angulócë?” Tauriel rushes out onto the balcony, a hand gripping your arm tightly. 

“No, ettulro sí.” 

The shadow of the dragon comes closer, blocking out the moon as it circles above the town. He is not far now; the wind from his wings stirs your hair, loose strands mixing with Tauriel’s.

The Captain ducks back inside the house. “We have no time. We must leave.”

The dwarves help their youngest prince to his feet, against his protest. Bard’s eldest daughter fastens a coat around her shoulders and hands one to her little sister.

“We’re not leaving!” Bain, son of Bard, objects.

“You do not have a choice.” You tell him sternly. “The dragon is coming.”

“But our father-“

“Can take care of himself. If you remain here then your sisters will die.”

Bard’s face contorts with conflict, but he is given no time to ponder his thoughts. You hurry him to the stairs that lead down to the water below.

The dwarves have already piled into the boat, mindful of their ill companion. Tauriel leads the children down, taking a seat at the front of the boat. You take on next to her, the dwarves filling up the back.

The blonde dwarf and the dwarf with a hat take up the poles, pushing the boat away from its mooring and into the canal.

The wind that nearly knocks the children into the water is the first sign on of the dragon. It swoops down over the rooftops, so close that its belly grazes the roof tiles.

“Stay down!” you force the children lower into the boat. The elderly dwarf leans forwards, protecting the youngest child from seeing anything.

The screams get louder and now they are accompanied by the roar of the dragon. The town is starting to burn, along with its people. “Go straight!” Tauriel commands. “Quickly!”

The dwarves heed her bidding, propelling the boat forwards through the chunks of ice. Y2ou cross over another canal just before the dragon sets it alight.

Tauriel remains focussed on the path in front, and you remain focussed on the children. “There!” Bain exclaims, trying to jump to his feet. You keep a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him in his seat.

“Do not be so foolish!” you snap.

“Our Da is down there!” the young boy protests, still fighting against your hand. “We have to help him.”

“Your place is with your sisters!” you glance in the direction of the jail and decide that the boy right. No man deserves to burn in a jail without knowledge of his children. “Tauriel.” You lean a hand on her shoulder. “Boe i ’waen.”

“Û! Le lertala!” Tauriel looks panicked and concerned. Your heart tugs painfully, reminding you of your vow to protect her, which you cannot do it you leave.

“Goheno nin.” In a fluid motion, before you can convince yourself to stay, you stand and jump from the boat.

Tauriel calls your name but you ignore her, running along the wooden walkways. The walkway running parallel on the other side of the river is burning to a crisp, and you try not to look so as not to see the bodies among the flames.

You try not to run in a straight line for too long, knowing that the dragon burns in an equally straight line. 

The people of Lake Town run past you, screaming and crying. Some are covered with soot, others in clothes that are burning. Some fall into the water but some make it to the boats.

The farther you run, the less people you see and the hotter the flames get. Wood creaks above you and you stumble back as a burning bridge falls, crashing into the wood and water below, blocking your path.

If Bard is beyond the bridge, he is dead.

The bell is still clanging and is not far away. Through the flickering flames that are rising higher and higher you can make out the shape of the bell tower. You should not linger with the fire so close, but you can make out the shape of a person beneath the bell.

The figure is balanced on the railing, armed with a bow and a dozen arrows. He must have a small knife too, as a flick of his hand stops the bell from ringing.

The figure must be Bard, thought the flames and smoke make it difficult to see. A moments of observation highlights a path to take you closer to the bell tower. If you can reach him, you may be able to convince him to return to his children.

You move quickly through the fire, staying close to the water. You make it no more than ten steps before the house in front of you buckles. The three-storey structure gives way, wood splintering under the weight of fire and soot. You dive to the side, but you do not move quickly enough. A falling beam, alight with dragon fire, hits your side. It pins you to the path, the fire licking at your skin and burning through your skin.

You’re aware of yourself crying out, though it takes a moment for you to feel the pain. You struggle to push the beam off you, but a falling roof tile that connects with the side of your head pushes you into the everlasting blackness.


	2. Part 2

Hands are shaking your shoulders and dripping water onto your face. A child is calling your name, asking you to open your eyes. After a moment, you manage to pull your heavy lids apart.

Bard’s son stares down at you. “Da! She’s awake!”

Bard is suddenly starting down at you as well. “Try not to move.” He says gently. “Can you feel anything?”

You frown and shake your head. “I’m not in pain.” Your throat is dry and itchy, but beyond that you feel fine. However Bard’s concerned face suggests you should feel anything but fine.

“Try not to move.” He repeats. “We’ll reach shore soon.”

Bard moves out of your line of sight, though Bain remains. “What has happened?”

“Da killed the dragon!” the little boy says enthusiastically. “Pierced it with a black arrow!”

“You left your sisters?”

Bain has the decency to look sheepish. “I had to help my Da. They were in good care.”

You nod, shifting slightly. You’re starting to think a little more straight and you can feel the wood of the boat you’re lying in dig into your shoulder blades. “Why am I not allowed to move? This boat is not very comfortable.”

Bain doesn’t answer, but looks a little unwell.

You do not take order that are not given with reason, so you try to sit up. It is a bad mistake.

Pain rips through you, blossoming across your chest and down your legs. You cannot locate the source, but now you’ve felt it, it will not go away.

“I told you not to move!” Bard reappears, easing you back down. “Bain, take us to shore!”

“What happened?” you ask, though as the words leave your mouth you remember the falling house. “How bad is it?”

“You cannot feel it unless you move?” Bard asks solemnly. “We have cleaned it as best we can, but we are not elves. We cannot prevent infection like they can.”

“Tauriel! I came with her, she could-“

“We will find her when she returns to shore.” Bard assures you.

“When she returns?”

“Aye, she came with us back to Lake Town. We returned to salvage what we could and she returned to look for you. We’ve sent someone to find her.”

Your heart beats a little faster. She came to look for me. “Was she hurt?”

“No. She was worried though.” The boat shakes before it stops suddenly. “Bain, stay here. I’ll see if the elves have returned. Do not move.”

Bard jumps from the boat, leaving you to stare at empty sky. You lift your head to try and see the damage that the fire has caused you. The tunic that you had once worn has been mostly burned away. The skin that you can see is red, but the majority of it is covered by fabric salvaged from Lake Town and soaked in the water. You can see more burns through the tears of your trousers, and moving your toes is excruciatingly painful.

“You don’t like to follow instructions, do you?” Bain sounds amused and your head falls back with a pained groan.

You grunt in reply, willing the pain to fade.

Bard returns a little later with company, but Tauriel is not among them. “We need to get you out of the boat and into a tent, away from the wind.” Bard informs you. “This might hurt.”

He and his human companions thread fabric beneath you before gently lifting you up and out of the boat. You bite your tongue, careful not to show your pain.

You are set down in a tent where a woman attempts to see to your wounds. “See to your people first.” You command. “I will heal faster than them.” You do not mention that your injuries may be beyond healing.

The woman protests but you insists and she eventually leaves. You close your eyes and control your breathing, pushing the pain back until it’s no more than a dull ache. You focus on nicer things, memories from years long since passed.

You’re so focussed on controlling the ever-growing pain that you don’t notice your company until gentle hands touch your face. “Ninyadil.”

Your eyes open to reveal Legolas and Tauriel. It is the latter of the two who holds your face in gentle hands.

“How do you feel?” Legolas asks, eyeing the makeshift bandages wearily.

“Well. I have avoided infection for now.”

“And your head?” Tauriel prompts, letting her hands drop from your face. You miss their warmth instantly.

“As clear as usual.”

“Good.” She smacks the top of it lightly.

“Hey!”

“Nátyë necindo!” Tauriel scolds. “What were you thinking?”

“That no child should live without their father.”

“Bard got himself out of that cell!”

“I didn’t know that at the time! I would not have been able to live with myself had Bard died but I had done nothing.” You sigh. “Goheno nin, ninyadil.”

“Illumë.” Tauriel smiles, resting a hand on your shoulder.

Legolas shifts uncomfortably. “You need proper treatment. Elvish treatment.” You do not argue. The pain is only getting stronger, and the areas that are burned but do not hurt will soon become infected. “I will send word to my father. Someone will come to collect you.”

A frown graces your face. “You will not take me back?” Legolas and Tauriel exchange uncomfortable looks. “Û! I will not return to a home where the two of you are no longer welcome!”

“Legolas can return.” Tauriel says quietly, sadness gracing her face.

Fear and panic grips you. “Legolas, lertammë sam aquapahtië?”

Legolas nods, leaving the two of you alone in the tent.

“How long is your banishment?”

“Until Thranduil sees fit to lift it.”

You shouldn’t ask the question at the forefront of your mind. The answer will break you. But this could be the last time you ever see Tauriel, and you don’t want to live with never knowing. “Is the love of a dwarf truly worth this? He will die Tauriel, such is the nature of mortals. What will wait for you then?”

Tauriel looks up at you with sad eyes. “I do not do it for love. There is much I would do for love, but I would never have myself banished from the home of my love.”

“The dwarf is not of Mirkwood. You have not banished yourself from his side.”

Tauriel opens her mouth to speak but she is interrupted by Legolas. “We must leave urgently.” He states. “There has been a development.” He turns to you then. “Healers have been sent for.”

Tauriel moves to stand but, in a moment of panic, you grab her hand to stop her. If she leaves now, you will likely never see her again. “Tauriel-“

“Queta áva.” She cuts you off, sinking back to her knees. “Save the words for someone who matters. Someone who will always be there.” She rests her free hand gently against your cheek before leaning down. She presses a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth before straightening up.

“Guren níniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham.” You say quietly. They aren’t the words you want to say, but they are close enough.

Tauriel smiles sadly. “Guren níniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham.” She repeats before ducking out of the tent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ninyadil – My Friend  
> Nátyë necindo – You’re insane/an idiot  
> Illumë – Always  
> Lertammë sam aquapahtië – Can we have privacy  
> Queta áva – Don’t say it  
> Guren níniatha n’i lû n’i a-govenitham – My heart will weep until I see you again


	3. Part 3

The healers had arrived at the shores of Long Lake not long after Tauriel and Legolas had left. They had bundled you into a cart and began the long journey back to the halls.

You arrive back in the middle of the night, having made rather good time. The small travelling party didn’t come across a single spider which was unusual and disconcerting. Usually the spiders are everywhere at night, but you saw nothing of them.

Not that you were truly concerned with their whereabouts. The pain has returned full force and your head feels as though it’s being compressed. Fever is taking hold and infection will begin to spread.

Your mother is waiting with scolding words for you when you’re brought to the infirmary. She reprimands you whilst the healers cut away your bandages and start preparing solutions and new dressings. She scolds you for following Tauriel and not Legolas, for leaving in the first place without telling someone and getting injured so badly.

The healer who takes charge of you eventually tires of your mother’s tittering and shoos her away before giving you a herbal concoction that will allow you to sleep through the worst of the infection.

x

The infection lasts nearly two weeks. You drift between restless sleep and pain-filled consciousness, though the healers assure you that you will make a full recovery.

Each time you wake you ask about your friends, but no one will tell you anything. In a moment of consciousness you learn that war has broken out at the foot of the Lonely Mountain, and that Thranduil, Bard and Thorin fight together against Azog and his armies.

The next time you wake there is no pain and the fever of the infection has passed. A healer sits at the base of your bed, dressing your legs in white bandages. “Na vedui.” She smiles. “Le suilon.”

You try to sit up but the healer shakes her head.

“You will hurt yourself. You must lay still for another few days, until you have healed properly.”

You feel healed now. There is no pain and you’re only a little stiff. “How bad is it?”

The healer looks away. “We saved your life, but we could do nothing to save your skin. We can show you how to cover the burns and walk like they do not exist, just as we did with those who faced the serpents of the North.” The healer finishes binding your legs and stands. “I will fetch you something to eat and drink, then we will discuss things further.”

Whilst she is gone you take the opportunity to observe your surroundings. This isn’t the first time you’ve ended up in a healing bed, but it’s the first time you’ve been there alone. There is usually someone there who got too close to a spider, fell down the stairs drunk or injured themselves in training. Now you are the only one there. It doesn’t feel right.

When last you woke you were told of a battle. That had surely been days ago, if longer. The lack of healing elves in this room meant one of two things; either the fight was still ongoing or many of the soldiers had died. Neither were comforting thoughts.

The healer finally returns with water and bread, which proves difficult to consume laying down. You’re eventually allowed to prop yourself up with pillows, enabling you to look down your body.

White bandages cover your legs and your stomach. From the chest down you are entwined in fabric. “It is bad then?”

The healer nods. “The flames reached deep into your body. You were unable to feel any pain around your abdomen as most of the skin and muscle had been burned away. You were lucky that your internal organs remained undamaged. Your legs were blistered but they should recover well. However your skin will remain mottled and scarred. I am afraid that it will not be a pretty sight.”

 _Nothing like the bluntness of elvish healers._ You think darkly. “What about my activities? How will they be impaired?”

“Fighting will be difficult. Your skin will be tight. You should be able to ride a horse again, but I would recommend that you find a different life to follow.”

You cringe. Since you came of age you have wielded a weapon in the Guard. You worked your way up from the bottom to one of the top. Your fellows feared and respected you. The new recruits looked to you for guidance, support and approval. What were you supposed to give that up for? Books and a quill? Not likely.

“Walking will be difficult too, for a while.” The healer continues, oblivious to your inner thoughts. You will need aid at first, but you should be fine to walk by yourself after a few months.”

“Thank you. Would you be so kind as to fetch my amal or my atar? Whomever is not busy?”

The healer nods. “Of course. I will return shorty.”

In the healers absence you contemplate trying to stand, but it’s not worth risking the fury of the healer. Only once did you anger a healer and it was a terrifying experience. Instead you content yourself with looking over the multi-coloured bottles on the shelves opposite the end of your bed.

It’s unusually quiet, yet another sign that the battle must still be raging on. Normally one can hear the footsteps of passing elves outside, or the laughter from children as they run past. Now there’s nothing.

The only set of approaching footsteps that you can make out are those belonging to the healer. The pair that accompany her are too light to belong to your mother or father.

“Selen!” the newcomer exclaims, rushing to your side. “Oh, you’re as grey as ash!”

“It’s wonderful to see you too, cousin!” you extend your hand to her in greeting. “Tell me, Manwathiel, what news is there?”

Manwathiel sighs. “War broke out at the foot of the Lonely Mountain. The battle was won, but only just. We lost many of our fighters.” She pauses to allow you to mutter a few words of blessings to their souls. “Many of the humans perished to, as did the dwarves.”

“The thirteen dwarves?”

“Lord Dain came from the Iron Hills. The dwarves that passed through here though, some did die.”

“Their names?”

Manwathiel. “Two of them were unnamed but they were the nephews of the third, King Thorin.”

You nod, blessing their names also. You had spoken briefly with the two princes, one of whom had struck up a unique friendship with Tauriel. “My friends?”

“Prince Legolas and Tauriel are unharmed, though the fate of the latter remains unknown.”

“How long until they return?”

“Another four days, perhaps. The fate of your friend will be decided then.” Manwathiel pauses. “You should know, your parents do not wish for you to stay close to her. She is scorned by the King. They do not want that scorn on you.”

“On them, you mean.” You say distastefully. “Whatever fate awaits Tauriel awaits me too. My actions mirrored hers, as will my fate.”

X

They return at the end of the week. You are in the middle of your daily exercise, which today includes balancing on your feet with the help of two sticks, when one of the healers rushes in. You are quickly bundled back into bed and curtains are drawn around you.

Not long after, the wounded are brought in one by one. Some make no noise, other groan in pain and some scream and shout in their fevered dreams.

Shadows dart across your curtains, the healers talk quickly and shout instructions as more and more people are brought in. They should soon need your bed. 

After an hour, just when you think the pained sounds may just drive you crazy, a healer throws open the curtains around your bed. “Come, we must move you.”

You nod and try to stand. The healer shakes his head and picks you up instead. He carries you into the hall where two elves are waiting with a stretcher that is being used to bring the injured. “I do not need that!” you protest, but the healer pays you no heed. He lays you down before disappearing back into the infirmary.

The elves take you to your rooms, where your cousin is waiting to help you into bed. “Tauriel is in an audience with the King.” Manwathiel informs you. “Prince Legolas is there too. He said that he would come to inform you of the verdict.”

In the meantime you are forced to play the waiting game. It’s another two hours before Legolas arrives, and in that time you’ve grown very bored of laying on your back. You manage to convince Manwathiel to visit the infirmary to fetch your crutches, then to help you practice your balance. By the time the prince arrives you’ve managed to stumble half way across the room.

“Legolas!” you smile happily. “Come in, come in!”

“You’re looking well, all things considering.” He laughs at your attempt to hobble to meet him. “How are you?”

“I can only lie down and care barely walk unaided, but I’m well.” Manwathiel helps you to him, where he takes your arm to keep you balanced.

“I will be across the hall should you need me.” Manwathiel informs you, before heading to the door. She opens it just as someone knocks. “Ai, Tauriel.”

Tauriel nods to your cousin as the two pass each other. The red-head doesn’t look happy.

“Tauriel, are you well?” you ask gently, well aware of the pain and tiredness on her face.

“I just need rest, that is all.” She smiles at you, though it is a tired and worn smile.

“The king? He is allowing you to stay?”

“Under his supervision.”

You smile. “Then there is some good news.” You lay your hand on her forearm when she is close enough. “I’m sorry about the dwarf. They say you were with him?”

Tauriel nods, laying her hand on top of yours. “He died bravely. His name will be carried in their songs for centuries. But we should not dwell on the dead when you are standing! You look very well!”

“You should see the bandages.” You snort. The fabric is currently covered by the dress you wear and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. “Besides, it’s not _all_ good news.” Legolas and Tauriel look worried until you explain that you may have to find another path for your life to follow.

“We’ll work on it.” Legolas assures you. “Now, we have stories to tell. I’ll fetch wood and food. It might take a while, for I am truly famished and Lembas Bread just will not do anymore. Any food preferences?”

“Anything that has taste to it. The healers have been feeding me the same bread every day!”

Legolas laughs, letting go of your arm. “Consider it done, hiril vuin.” He grins and bows his head before ducking out. As he leaves you notice that one of his swords is missing.

“Buried in the head of Bolg, spawn of Azog.” Tauriel explains when you ask about it. “Bard has promised to retrieve it.” She look at you for a moment before she pulls you into a tight hug.

The action surprises you. Elves rarely hug, and when they do it is to express emotion that they cannot speak. Your walking sticks clatter to the ground as you grab her tunic to support yourself. Tauriel is careful not to lean her weight on you or pull your wounds as she buries her face in your hair.

“Ánin aspenë.” She begs into her hair, and it sounds as though she might start crying.

“There is nothing to forgive.” You reassure her, holding her close. “Nothing that has happened is your fault.”

“ _This_ is my fault!” Tauriel pushes away so that she can face you. “If I had not let you leave the boat then you would not have been burned! If I had not allowed you to follow me you would not have been in Lake Town! If I had not left these halls in the first place then you would ne-”

You press a finger against her lips, silencing her mid-rant. “The only one to blame for this is Smaug, and he is dead. Don’t blame yourself.”

“But-“

You silence her again, but this time by pulling her down and pressing your lips against hers, an incredibly bold and downright foolish move. It’s only brief and Tauriel barely has time to recognise it.

“ _Don’t_ blame yourself.” You instruct as you pull away. Now might be a good time to try and hobble back to your bed and pretend the whole thing never happened.

Tauriel does not answer you, but pulls you back to kiss you, her soft lips pressed against yours. This time she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you close. Your eyes widen briefly in surprise before they slide close.

Tauriel’s warmth seems to chase the pain away as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

You’re fairly certain that you hear the door open and Legolas walk in before doing a quick about-turn.

Tauriel breaks the kiss just enough to murmur ‘Gi Melin’ before drawing you close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Na vedui – At last  
> Le suilon (A phrase of greeting)  
> Amal – Mother  
> Atar – Father  
> Selen – Cousin  
> Ai – Hail/Hello  
> Hiril vuin – My Lady  
> Ánin aspenë – Forgive me  
> Gi melin – I love you

**Author's Note:**

> In angulócë – The Dragon
> 
> No, ettulro sí – Yes, he comes now
> 
> Boe i ’waen – I must go
> 
> Û – No
> 
> Le lertala – You can’t
> 
> Goheno nin – Forgive me


End file.
